


Peace of Body

by Farasha



Category: NCIS
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Happy Ending, Kink, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-28
Updated: 2009-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-03 16:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farasha/pseuds/Farasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abby wears metal underwear. No, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peace of Body

"Gibbs!" Abby held her hand out without even looking behind her. McGee put the Caf-Pow in her hand and stood there silently, eyebrows raised. "I found something! I was about to call you, because you weren't coming, and it's a little eerie when you don't- Oh, hi McGee."

"Abby," he said. "What did you find?"

"Where's Gibbs?"

"With Tony, searching the petty officer's house. What did you find?"

"That's not right," Abby said, her mouth turning down in a pout. "He's always supposed to be here when I find something. You can't suddenly start creeping in here like Gibbs and giving me Caf-Pow-" here she stopped to take a sip from the beverage- "asking me what I found like you're-"

"Abby, the only reason I'm here and Gibbs isn't is because he isn't physically in the building. And I know better than to come down here without bringing you your Caf-Pow."

Abby smiled and smacked him on the shoulder. "McGee, you're so sweet. Anyway, the fibers Ducky lifted off the petty officer's clothes? I found..." she paused, wiggling her fingers at her computer monitor like a magician conjuring results. "Motor oil! Whoever strangled our petty officer had motor oil on their clothes." She paused.

"Mechanic?" McGee asked.

"Or I don't wear metal underwear," Abby answered cheerfully, turning back to her computer. "I just have to trace the elements in the motor oil, and I can see whether it he worked on base."

All of this went past McGee's ears without being absorbed. He stared at her for a minute. "You wear metal underwear?"

"McGee, you aren't focusing," she said.

"Kind of hard to focus when you say something like- Since when do you wear metal underwear? You didn't when-"

"Still not focusing," Abby said. "Go watch the tox screen until it talks to mama."

McGee wandered over to the other machine, but he couldn't get it out of his head. "How is that even comfortable?"

"The point isn't for it to be comfortable," Abby said. He could tell that her mind wasn't even on what she was saying anymore. She was typing furiously. "Although if you think about the psychological aspects of a chastity belt-"

"Wait, you're wearing a chastity belt?" McGee turned around, unable to watch the machine anymore when she had dropped that just as casually as she had told him about the motor oil. "Did the sisters get you to take a vow of abstinence or something?"

"Don't be silly," Abby said. "They tried, but..." she shrugged, a tiny smile playing about her lips. "No, Sister Theresa was talking about how much safer it made her feel when she was walking around the city - you know there are people out there who actually fetishize the sisterhood-"

"More information than I needed, Abby," McGee muttered, turning back to the machine. He tried ruthlessly to suppress any... anything that announcement might have made him feel. Their relationship had been brief for a reason - they were too much alike, and at the same time far too different.

"You asked," Abby said.

Later that night, he found himself doing what he always did when he was confronted with something he didn't quite understand - research. Wikipedia had some very... helpful articles (helpful, of course, in furthering his academic knowledge of the subject. McGee ignored the mental images of Abby wearing - yeah - until he could no longer ignore his erection).

It was even worse the next day, when he found himself helping Abby in the lab after the motor oil lead had dead-ended. She was frustrated - he could tell, because she muttered to her machines and sucked down Caf-Pow at twice her normal rate, kicking her rolling chair back and forth across the lab as she walked.

"McGee!" she yelled, breaking the silence and making him jump so hard he knocked his mouse off the table. Not that he had been using his mouse, or looking at his screen, or-

"What?" he asked.

"That has been beeping for the past five minutes! It's been driving me insane - didn't you hear it?"

"Uh-" he looked over and saw that she was right, scrambling to find the mouse and click on the notification so that it stopped beeping. "Sorry. Guess I got distracted."

"I'll say so," Abby said. "Don't think I didn't catch you looking, because I did."

"What?" McGee said again.

"Looking, Tim," she said, and the use of his first name caught his attention the way her other words hadn't, and he realized that he had been looking - staring, more accurately. "At me. All day. Do I have something in my teeth?" She leaned up to him and bared her teeth at him, and he leaned back.

"Abby, personal space," he said. "You don't have anything in your teeth."

"Tim," she said, exasperated. "Is this because of what I said yesterday?"

"Um?" McGee said, trying to school his expression into one that resembled some kind of innocence.

"About the-"

Gibbs chose that moment to walk through the door and pause, raising his eyebrows at both of them. "Got something for me, Abs?"

"Gibbs!" Abby said, cheerfully accepting the Caf-Pow and kiss on the cheek. McGee turned back to the computer, trying to focus. He barely listened to the conversation behind him, something about the results from the computer he was supposed to have been watching... while he watched Abby instead.

It was ridiculous. They had both agreed that it was for the best not to continue dating for multiple reasons. There was no reason for him to be this fascinated with her now.

A sudden slap across the back of his head jolted him from his thoughts "Yes, boss!" he said, whirling around.

"Stop daydreaming and get back to work," Gibbs said as he swept out of the room as quickly as he had come.

McGee swallowed and turned back to the computer. There was no reason for the fascination except for the fact that, if he really thought about it, he had never stopped being fascinated by her. He had always admired her intelligence, her ability to stay cheerful, her-

Abby's face crept slowly into his peripheral vision as she slung her arm over his shoulder. His hands froze on the keyboard. "Don't think you can get out of it that easily," she said.

He sighed, his shoulders hunching. "I'm sorry, Abby, I-"

"Tim," she said, exasperated again. "You know what Gibbs always says about apologizing. Besides," here her arm tightened around his shoulders, "I can't really help it if I got you curious."

She pulled away and was bouncing across the lab before he could answer, which was probably a good thing, because if she had seen him standing there with his mouth open he might have died of embarrassment. He closed his mouth quickly when she turned around, hands on her hips. "So, are you going to ask me or not?"

His mouth fell open again, and spoke without his brain stopping to engage - an effect she had on him often. "Would you like to come to dinner at my place?"

Abby paused. "Not the question I was expecting," she said. She actually looked like he had thrown her off-balance for a moment, and he started to apologize again when she said, "If we get out of here any time before three in the morning, I'd love to."

They didn't.

It wasn't until the next day, when the case had finally closed after a very, very long session in the interrogation room, that they were able to keep the dinner... date. McGee had taken to calling it that in his own head, even though he knew, intellectually, that it wasn't a date, couldn't be a date, they had tried that before and it hadn't worked out.

But he was different now, a small voice tried to remind him. Being a field agent had changed him in ways he didn't expect. Maybe, just maybe... He shook his head, unlocking the door, Abby's constant stream of babble a comforting background track as they moved around his kitchen as efficiently and smoothly as they did in the lab. Abby had never been shy about making herself at home in McGee's apartment, bustling around like a whirlwind, injecting a small amount of controlled chaos in the atmosphere.

Before, he had chased her around, grabbing her wrist and pulling it away from his typewriter, his computer - insecure about what he had felt was an invasion of his space. Now, it was easy to let her move around on her own while he tended to dinner, occasionally interjecting into her stream-of-consciousness monologue.

They talked shop for a little while - their jobs were so much a part of their lives that they couldn't help it - until Abby set down her fork decisively and said, "So?"

McGee paused. "So, what?"

"So, what do you want to know?" she asked, leaning forward to put her arms on the table, grinning like a cat.

"I - Abby," he said helplessly, knowing his cheeks were turning red.

"Awww, Tim," she said, grinning wider. "Still a visual learner?"

"Actually," he said, swallowing as his throat went dry, suddenly brave as he met her eyes, "More kinesthetic."

Abby rose from the table, and McGee froze, afraid he had made a misstep. But she crossed toward him, not toward the door, and he could only hold on to the edge of the table as she leaned down and planted a very firm, very unmistakable kiss on his lips. "I remember," she said, and slipped her hands around his wrists, tugging gently until he relaxed the white-knuckled grip and rose to his feet.

She pulled him into the bedroom without hesitation, despite the fact that he stumbled over his own feet and couldn't seem to watch where he was going - eyes only for her.

He stopped her before she could pull him down to the bed, turning her around with gentle hands on her shoulders and kissing her this time, gaining confidence by the moment when she didn't pull away, didn't tell him it was a bad idea, didn't remind him that they had tried and failed once before.

Instead, she set her fingers to the buttons of his shirt, deftly undoing them in a quick line, her nails grazing his skin as she went. The kiss grew hotter, wetter, more personal and more blatant - McGee shrugged his shirt off and slipped his hands under the hem of hers, sliding them up her back like he expected to feel the tattoo he knew was there. "Abby," he said, hushed, his breath puffing over her smile as she stripped off her shirt and unhooked her bra without hesitating, leaving her bare to the waist.

His mouth found the spiderweb splayed across her neck and his hands found her breasts, following her down as she sat on the edge of the bed. His shoes and her boots were the next to go - he fumbled with the laces as he knelt in front of her until she stopped him. "They zip, actually," she said, spreading her knees and guiding his hands to the insides of her calves.

And if that wasn't an invitation, McGee thought as he slid his hands up her thighs to push her skirt up around her waist, he wasn't sure what was. She didn't stop him - he stopped himself, and stared, when his hands met cool metal at the juncture of her thighs. His mouth went dry for an entirely different reason, and his pants got even more uncomfortable.

It was sleek, stainless steel with leather wrapped around its edges, and the leather bands holding it on met just above the rise of her pubic bone, a small padlock dangling there. He looked up and caught her eyes. "How does it come off?"

"That defeats the purpose," Abby said, the catlike grin back in full force. "I have the key. Somewhere."

"You aren't going to tell me where?" McGee asked, his fingers trailing over her skin where it met the leather, trying to find a gap where he could fit at least one finger past that protective cage. It didn't work - it was flush to her skin, practically airtight.

"If you ask very, very nicely," Abby said, "I might."

McGee felt his lips quirk in an answering smile, one hand going around her waist and the other under her thigh, lifting her easily to shift her farther back on the bed, leaning down to cover her body with his own. Her hands settled low on his hips, hooking into the waistband of his pants but making no move to pull them off - like she was content to wait and see what he would do.

He kissed her again, slowly, pulling back every time she tried to push forward. She made a frustrated noise and he said, "Key?"

"Not that easy," Abby breathed. "Try harder."

McGee slid his mouth around to that spiderweb tattoo again, placing open-mouthed kisses, trailing lower to drag his teeth across her collarbone - that provoked a short gasp, so he lingered there, teeth and tongue, while his hands trailed up her sides, ignoring her ticklish squirming. He caught her wrists in one hand and held them above her head, remembering the eagerness that had come into her face when he threatened to tie her up, and was rewarded by an unsteady pant, her breath becoming uneven. "Key?" he asked again, his voice muffled by her skin.

"In your dreams, Tim," she said.

He moved lower, his arm now stretched out above his head as his tongue dragged across her skin, tasting sweat and the faint chemical taste of soap, perfume and laundry detergent. She pulled at his hands, testing his grip and making a small noise when she discovered it to be unyielding. His mouth dragged across the top of her breast, and he let his breath wash over her nipple, his other hand splaying across her stomach to hold her down when she tried to arch into it. "Key?"

"No."

He let his mouth descend, curling his tongue around her breast. He scraped his teeth gently over her nipple, provoking the first real sound out of her, and so he did it again, following with his tongue, a single rapid flick. Her hips writhed under him, but he pulled away, placing one last close-mouthed kiss there before moving across her breastbone to the other, repeating the same treatment and listening to the noises caught in her throat. "Key?"

"Not yet," she said, panting.

He had to let go of her arms to trace a ticklish path with his tongue down the skin of her stomach. He moved his hand lower, cupping the chastity belt with his palm. Metal was an excellent conductor of heat, and he felt hot enough to burn. He dipped his tongue into her belly button, moving lower to trace his lips across the leather, placing a small kiss right above the padlock. He looked up, catching her eyes, smiling at the way her pupils had blown wide. "Now," he said forcefully. "Where's that key?"

"Skirt pocket," she said. "Left. My left, not your left."

He reached into the pocket of the skirt still around her waist and pulled it out - it was on a black lanyard, steel like the padlock.

McGee pulled back, watching her stretched out before him, flushed. Then he put the lanyard over his head.

"Tim?" she asked, sitting up, reaching for the key. He grabbed her wrist.

"Ask very nicely," he said, surprised at how low and rough his voice was. The stunned, pleased look on her face hit him low in the belly, and his lips parted without complaint as she leaned forward, her hands coming up to frame his face as she kissed him thoroughly, her tongue flirting with his before withdrawing. She straddled his knees, bringing her hips forward, and he grabbed at them convulsively as warmed metal brushed him through his slacks.

Abby dropped her hands to his belt as she fastened her mouth on his earlobe, her teeth worrying it gently as she unbuckled and pulled it from his belt loops like she had been doing it all her life - probably had, he thought dizzily, with the amount of buckles she wore on her clothing.

Then he couldn't think at all - she had popped the button and pulled the zipper inside of seconds, and her hand slipped inside his boxers. The brush of her fingers on his cock pulled the breath out of him, and she pulled back just far enough for her breath to wash over his ear. "Nicely enough?"

"Not nearly," he said, although his voice came out almost strangled, and his hands tightened hard on her hips, the leather biting into his palms.

She shifted back and tugged, lying back and pulling him down on top of her while she worked his pants and boxers down over his hips, and he kicked them off into the corner of the room. She wiggled, pulling her skirt down and kicking it after them, leaving them both naked except for that maddening strip of metal around her, and the key around his neck.

Her hand closed around him again, firmly, pulling up to flirt her thumb over the head of his cock before sliding back down again, not teasing in the slightest. Her other hand closed around the nape of his neck, pulling him down into another kiss to swallow his groan. Her nails slid over his scalp as she said, "Now, Tim."

"Now," he agreed, pulling the key over his head and fitting it into the padlock with shaking hands. It unlocked with a small click, and Abby at least had the foresight to put it and the key on the bedside table before they could get lost.

She lifted her hips off the bed, and he watched in fascination as that metal cage unhooked and slid easily down, leaving bright red marks where the leather had crossed over her hips. He leaned down, mouthing along those lines, listening to her breath speed up until her chest was practically heaving.

McGee's chest tightened as his fingers slid into her easily, wet heat surrounding them. He crooked them and was rewarded with a shuddering whine. "Where," Abby gasped, "do you keep-"

"Bedside table, top drawer," McGee answered, closing his mouth over her as she reached, his tongue flickering over her clit.

"God, Tim," she gasped. "You have to- wait-" she pawed through the drawer of his nightstand as she babbled, came up with a condom and chucked it at him. "Now," she demanded.

"Absolutely," he said, sitting up and tearing it open, fumbling to roll it on as he felt her eyes on him. He leaned forward, reaching down to position himself, and then paused.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked, her hands coming up to his hips like she was going to pull him in.

"You," he said. "Say yes, Abby."

"Oh, Tim," she said, smiling brilliantly. "Yes."

He rocked forward without any further hesitation, burying himself in her cunt with a long groan ripped straight from his gut. She made an answering noise, her hands scrabbling at his spine, tossing her head back. He buried his face in the crook of his shoulder and thrust hard, unable to keep still - they had drawn it out so long that he felt like he had to come now, like he couldn't stand any longer.

Fumbling, he squeezed his hand in between their bodies, his fingers slipping down to where they joined, pressing hard against the raised nub of flesh there. The angle was awkward, his wrist hurt, but she must have felt the urgency the same way he did because it took one, two, three strokes before she was spasming around him and he couldn't hold on either, tipped over the edge with a silent gasp.

"You're heavy, Tim, get off," Abby said, pushing at his chest until he rolled aside, slipping free of her. He slung one arm across her chest and pulled her close, shifting until her head rested on his chest and she slung her leg across his.

"Wow," he said.

"Yeah, that was pretty wow," Abby said, and he felt her grin against his shoulder. "I should tell you about my weird kinky habits more often, if it's going to result in that."

"Abby," he said, sitting up on his elbow. "I-"

"You're over-thinking," she said, before he could even get the words out of his mouth. "Don't say anything. Don't jinx it. We have a good thing here, Tim-"

McGee slipped out from under her and then paused. "You'll stay the night?" he asked.

"Timmy, if you have to ask," she said simply, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

He smiled.


End file.
